


I Wanna Be Your Lover

by FlowerCrown



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, three guesses as to the song that's been stuck in my head as of late, yet another coffeeshop au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2014-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-13 02:50:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1209970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlowerCrown/pseuds/FlowerCrown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is a barista who likes boys, Prince, and vanilla frappuccinos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Wanna Be Your Lover

**Author's Note:**

> title from the prince song (duh)
> 
> idea from that picture that went around ages ago, which had a zillion cute barista fics based on it

Lou was the perfect barista. Liam knew it when he hired him. Between the neatly-quiffed hair, the flirting, and the tendency to break out in song, Lou made more in tips than Liam actually made in drinks. The boy knew exactly who to wink at, and had an uncanny knack for finding the worst times to belt out Madonna singles. Sure, he was a bit... rambunctious, at times, but it was part of his charm. 

Zayn pointed this out as he doodled on the chalkboard menu. "It might be annoying, but I'm the one he owes rent to, and if his impromptu karaoke is paying the bills, I will not let you say a word." He popped the cap back onto his marker with a sense of finality, smirking as he took in the finished work. Liam sighed. ‚"I just don't think it's appropriate for him to be, well, flirting, with customers he has no intention of, you know,” he gestured, “being with."

"All's fair in love and war, mate.‚" Zayn flipped the front sign to open and dragged the standing chalkboard out to the sidewalk. "Not to mention," he added, sticking his head back inside, "you being the biggest flirt on this planet. His is just intentional."

"I am not a flirt!" Liam protested, rolling his eyes. It was an argument they had had before. 

"Which is why you have something like what, 4 numbers, and that's only this week." Zayn slid behind the counter and bent to slip a binder from under the shelf. "No, actually 6." He turned the page to face Liam. The title, scrawled in Louis' messy writing, read “Hottest Piece of Ass in This Shop”. Creative it was not, but it got the point across. Liam’s column held 6 tallies, with each of the boys checking in somewhere around there. Louis' column had little notes pointing to each mark, things like: “HOT!!!” and “soccer mom” and “I can see your wedding ring”.

"Plus, that's only the time you’re not doing office work."

The bells on the door jingled as Louis stumbled inside, cursing.

“Jesus fuck, since when has that been there?” He gestured at the board Zayn had been drawing on earlier.

Liam hurried out the door to adjust the sign Lou had kicked and apologize to passerbys for the rude language.

“Ahh, the book's already out? Guess I’m later than I thought!” Louis picked up the binder, holding it in both hands as he moved to the closet-turned-office to clock in. “Has anyone even come in yet this morning?” he shouted from the back. Zayn shook his head, knowing Louis couldn't see “It’s 6 on a Wednesday morning, Louis!”

Louis swept out from behind the counter with a flourish, nearly avoiding the muffin display as his arms flailed behind his back, attempting to knot his apron. He let out a huff as Liam motioned to him, then moved to stand in front of him. Liam tied the strings quickly, patting Louis on the head when he finished. 

“The only reason we’re even open is because that dancer girl Liam likes has a 7 o’clock. And the one time she ever came in without her posse was at 6:38 on a wednesday, what, like, half a semester ago?” Zayn continued. Liam blushed red.

“Enough about Liam, let’s talk about me.” Louis hopped up onto the counter, talking over Zayn’s half-hearted “We put food there!”. This wasn’t the first time he was making the complaint, and Louis wasn’t about to start listening. “The blond wonder hasn’t been in for a week, the footie player from the park came in with a ring, and I saw hipster boy getting something signed to have credits transferred to another University. I’m beginning to go insane.” He pouted exaggeratedly.

“Looks like you’ll have to go insane by yourself, then, because Liam and I are off to our 7:30 and Niall’s making us do some freshman welcome thing, so you’re on your own 'till 1.” Zayn was already grabbing his backpack from the corner table.

Liam looked slightly more apologetic. “Maybe Nick’ll actually come to work today?”

All three of them knew it wasn’t going to happen. Although he was the owner, Nick seldom showed up to the shop. From what the boys had gathered, all from gossip, Nick had a bit of a side business going, either in audio pornography or radio. Louis doubted there was much of a difference when Nick did either.

“Like I’d want that prick around. I’ll see you lads tonight, yeah?”

Liam waved as Zayn straightened the sign. Louis hardly had time to change the radio to top 40 before the first gaggle of freshman girls opened the door. Louis shook his ass and lip synced along with Ke$ha as he prepared endless vanilla bean frappuccinos. He chalked up the extra giggling to the fact that the shop was filled with freshmen, and the overflowing tip jar to the fact that his butt was crafted from the gods above.

Until the morning rush ended, that is. It seemed to go even faster than usual with only one person to do all the work. After wiping down the equipment and stacking the dirty dishes into a somewhat stable mountain, Louis slid the “ring for assistance!” labelled bell into the center of the counter, grabbed the tip jar in both hands, and unceremoniously dumped it on the desk in the office.

Tips were Louis’ favorite part. For one thing, they were an excellent judgement of his dance skills. For another, they often added up to more than his official paycheck. And last of all, the tip jar was the unofficial depository for phone numbers, the highest of all compliments.

The number of white slips in the jar was far above average, to say the least. After fifteen minutes and two counts, Louis was left with 38 dollars, a pile of change, and 19 phone numbers. Perplexing as it was, Louis was poised to text the lads about his surely unbeatable victory when the bell rang.

The shop was all but cleared out, with only a few occupants, all of whom were sipping at cold drinks with eyes glued to their computer screens. Louis’s eyes roamed over their empty cups before he caught sight of the waiting customer.

The boy was dressed simply, in a low-cut and nearly see through scoop neck and a tight pair of black jeans. His curly hair was pushed back. The only color seemed to be his green eyes and a rainbow colored smudge of chalk on his left thigh. “I, um, walked into your sign, I think.”

Louis stared at him, unable to peel his eyes from the long legs. The boy had to be at least a few inches taller than him, and he was made of lean muscle, which Louis could confirm if that shirt was just a bit tighter... “Oh!” he said stupidly. “Yeah, um, that’s new, I crashed into it as well. No problem.” He smiled as charmingly as he could at the beautiful boy. “You know what, I’ll just move it, not like anyone doesn’t know about this place.”

The curly-haired boy followed him like a puppy as he propped open the door and grabbed the chalkboard. “Did you want a drink?” he asked, shoving the sign under the counter and trying to maintain eye contact. “I make the best vanilla bean frap you’ve ever tasted, guaranteed.” The boy smiled slowly. “Uh, yeah, I’ll have that.”

Louis wasted no time, singing Prince as he poured the frothy drink, making sure he hit the high notes and showcased his ass. “Done!” He grinned triumphantly as he set the drink on the counter. He waved the green-eyed boy off as he reached for his wallet. “No, mate, it’s the least I can do, what with your near death experience with the sign.” The boy hadn’t even opened his mouth to protest before Louis winked, then returned to the back to finish off his text. He cursed when he saw the tip jar sitting on the desk. No chance of getting Curly's number, then.

He began to tidy up the shop as the drink orders became further and further apart.

It was only when the shop was reasonably clean that he remembered the sign. He got a new washcloth from the back to wipe it down, determined to at least look busy. He managed to wrestle the easel from under the counter to on top of it with only a bit of effort, and was surprised to find he could still make out the lettering, despite the curly-haired boys multicolored (and perfect, and oddly sexy) leg. He didn’t even have to squint to read the once perfectly-lettered: “Today your barista is: hella fucking gay, and ready for numbers!” amid all the hearts. He was going to kill Zayn.

He was still organizing the righteous fury in his head when the door opened again. Quickly, he shoved the board back under the counter and beamed a flirtatious smile. His red-tipped ears were the only sign of lingering embarrassment. What he had lost from his dignity he could at least make up for in tips.

Two white-chocolate mochas later, the shop was nearly empty again. Only a few stray studiers remained this close to lunch. With nothing to do but angrily text Zayn, Louis settled in behind the counter to do just that. He leaned forward on his elbows, tapping his thumbs on the keyboard. Halfway through the sixth “fuck” a stray napkin caught his eye.

There, in black, right on top of the post-consumer-recycled brown Louis loathed, was a name, and a number. A messy scrawl read: “Sorry for ruining the sign. I liked it. Harry”, then a number followed by “xx” and a smiley face.

Louis couldn't help his smile, but Zayn was still going to get shit for this.

**Author's Note:**

> yeee i wrote this ages ago before liam was a dick and i had just gotten into fic
> 
> also why was louis the only employee ? i don't know i don't work at a coffeeshop this isn't the real life


End file.
